


The Bride

by BleedingDeath



Series: His [2]
Category: Outlast (Video Games)
Genre: Abuse, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Mutilation, Stockholm Syndrome
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-09-06
Updated: 2018-08-20
Packaged: 2018-12-24 19:26:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,173
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12019419
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BleedingDeath/pseuds/BleedingDeath
Summary: After being mutilated on Eddie Gluskin's table and forced to wed him, Waylon passes out from blood loss. Upon waking, he finds out that one, he isn't dead; and two, Eddie still very much wants to make him his bride. Unsure if he'll be able to make it out, Waylon does what he can to survive.





	1. 1

**Author's Note:**

> What is up my guys? Remember how I said Bride to Be wouldn't have a sequel? Well, apparently I lied because here it is! I literally wrote this up last night so I hope you enjoy it. After playing Whistleblower for the first time I was re-inspired and this happened. Not sure how many chapters it'll be and I'm not 100% sure where it'll go, but I'm excited!

He was dead... wasn't he? He hoped to what ever god might be out there that he was. But when his eyes opened, a sure sign that he was in fact alive, he was greeted by dim light and the muffled sound of old music playing on the radio. _Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck._ He tried to move, but his arms wouldn't budge. Restraints? It was too dark to see.

His body ached all over. Even if he wanted to try to escape, the best he could do was limp around. How long had he even been here? He tried to remember. The altar... he... fainted? That's right. Eddie had put him in a dress after...

The blood drained from his face. No. No, he did not want to think about that right now. But the pain between his legs served as an ever increasing reminder of what wasn't there. He tugged at the restraints again. It was no use.

"Darling? Oh, you're awake. Thank goodness, I was worried about you."

Fuck.

The lights flickered on illuminating the room. Some sort of makeshift hospital area if he had to guess. And there before him, was his worst nightmare, Eddie fucking Gluskin.

"No, no! You stay the _fuck_ away from me!" he spat, trying to move and only causing himself more pain.

"Now, now, darling, language. It's not becoming of a young woman." He sat down beside his bed. "I wanted to apologize. In my haste I was a bit... careless with your surgery. Not to worry, I found someone who could help, he said he was a surgeon before coming here. He fixed you." The smile on his face disgusted him. "I was worried I was going to lose you, can you ever forgive me?"

It would have been better for him to not answer, but instead he responded with a loud "Fuck you", that made Eddie fall into an uncomfortable silence. He stood. "I know you're not feeling well so I'll let it slide this time. I'll go fetch the doctor to get you more medicine for your pain. You need rest." After placing a kiss onto Waylon's head, he left.

"Shit, shit, shit, shit!" How was he supposed to get out of here? Why couldn't he have just died? Was it really so hard to do? Was it so much to ask for? Did God have no mercy? Or maybe there wasn't one after all if he was stuck in this hellhole. All he wanted was to make it back to his family. His kids, his wife. That became less and less of a possibility as the seconds ticked by.

Within a few more minutes a man with short dark hair and a surgical mask walked in. He had some sort of lab outfit on, perhaps taken off one of the workers, or perhaps he had worked here at some point in time, though Waylon didn't recognize him. Then again, he wasn't allowed to see much.

"Hello... Waylon, is it? Mr. Gluskin has told me a lot about you. It wasn't very nice to run from him you know. I think you hurt his feelings."

And he chopped off his dick, whoop-de-fucking-do.

"At any rate, you're lucky he found me. You were losing quite a bit of blood and he did um... quite the job on you. Needless to say, he gave me a lot of work to fix on you, but you'll be fine. Just take things easy for now. This will help the pain and make you sleep."

Waylon felt a sharp poke in his arm and the doctor left. The drug helped to soothe the pain and fogged his head. He was alone with the soft hum of the radio mixed with the quiet buzz of the light hanging above. He didn't want to sleep again. He didn't want to be here any longer. He wanted to go home. Home... Waylon drifted to sleep.

-

The next time he woke up, the light came in from a window across the room. Was it morning? How long had he been asleep? Hours? Days? His head was groggy and the springs of the bed dug into his back. He groaned, wishing to turn over, but the restraints still held him tight. Then it was the sound of footsteps that caught his attention, a quick thought to maybe he should pretend to still be asleep, and then a dreadful knot of hate and despair in the pit of his stomach every time he had to look at this monster.

"Good morning, darling. Did you sleep well?" Eddie approached him, standing by his side. "You look better today. I've been checking on you so often. I know the doctor already does, but I can't stand not seeing you myself."

He wouldn't talk to him. He wouldn't let him have that. He wouldn't even look at him.

"Are you still mad at me? Darling, I truly am sorry. If I could change my actions... been gentler, I would. You had just made me so angry, running away like you did. Playing cat and mouse with my heart."

Waylon felt a hand run along his leg and he pushed down the want to vomit.

"The doctor said you can start walking around a little tomorrow, won't that be nice?"

He could feel Eddie's gaze on him, waiting for a response.

"You have to promise not to run though, it's bad for your ankle and you might hurt yourself again. We need to get you all better if we want to have the wedding after all. I want to make sure it's perfect this time."

He would rather be dead. And that's what would likely happen if he did try to run tomorrow. He knew he couldn't outrun Eddie, not yet. But that also didn't mean he would play the part of a willing "bride". Would it let him live longer? Probably. But he would rather keep what little shreds of dignity he had left.

Eddie let him be after that, though he stayed close by, humming quietly to himself.

Tomorrow, Waylon had to find a way out. He had to escape.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! I know I haven't updated this fic in like... nearly a year, but hey, here's an update!

The next day, when he woke up, Waylon was once more greeted by the noise of the radio. Always old time music. He would be glad to never hear it again once he managed to get out of here. _If_ he got out of here. The restraints still kept him immobile, but Eddie wasn't around yet. A few moments of peace. Then Waylon heard a door creak open and it was gone.

"Darling?" Eddie's head poked around the corner. "Ah, good, you are awake. I didn't want to disturb you."

_Too late for that._

"Are you excited to get up and around today? Not too much though. But before that, I think you're in need of a bath."

Waylon still refused to talk to him. Nevertheless, Eddie began to unstrap the restraints and soon enough he was free from them. Running now would be stupid though with Eddie looming above him like a vulture over it's next meal.

"Come, darling. You can walk after you're all cleaned up." Eddie lifted him effortlessly, carrying him bridal style. Waylon winced in pain, gritting his teeth together. Laying in bed all day didn't seem so bad now that pain shot up from his leg and groin. "Sorry, I know it hurts." Eddie pressed a kiss to Waylon's head as he tried to squirm away. "Darling, are you still mad?" he asked as they turned down a hall.

"Mad? Mad? Of course I'm fucking mad at you, you fucking monster! You fucking cut off my fucking dick! You nearly killed me! You're keeping me here against my fucking will and you ask if I'm mad? I want to fucking kill you, you motherfucker!"

Eddie's gaze pierced Waylon to his very core. It wasn't anger, not outwardly at any rate. He just stared at him, the corner of his mouth pulling tight ever so slightly. It was then, Waylon knew he had fucked up. They continued to the washroom in complete silence.

When they reached the room, Eddie rested Waylon on a dark wood stool. "Don't run off." The threat in his voice was clear so he stayed put as Eddie drew the bath. At least the tub was moderately clean. No blood or dead people floating in it, a promising sign.

"We'll need to get this off." He began unbuttoning Waylon's shirt.

"What? Wait, what? no!" Waylon struggled, batting Eddie's hands away, nearly falling off the stool.

"Darling," he snarled, grabbing Waylon's wrists tight enough to bruise. "You'll get hurt if you keep struggling and you can't bathe with your clothes on. Please, sit still." The calm returned as he let go, resuming his work on the buttons.

Waylon wanted to continue to tell him off, struggle, fight, but he knew if he did, Eddie would get angrier than he already was, and kill him. He wasn't ready to die just yet. However, being undressed by this monster was more than humiliating.

"Can you stand alright?" Eddie asked, sliding off Waylon's shirt.

"You don't have to do this, I can undress myself."

"I thought it might be more romantic. You've been in a horrible mood lately."

_Maybe if you weren't a fucking psycho trying to kill me I'd feel better._

"Here." He helped Waylon stand. "Lean on my shoulders." Then he bent down, slipping Waylon's pants down and helping him step out.

The room was a lot colder without clothes. Without them, he felt all too vulnerable. Exposed. Eddie's hungry eyes took him in.

"You are so beautiful."

_And you're fucking disgusting._ But he wasn't going to actually say that. Yet. This was the fucking worst.

"Waylon?"

"What?" His reply was sharp compared to Eddie's.

"You don't have to be embarrassed about this. It's nothing I haven't seen before."

He looked up at Eddie with an 'I can't believe you right now' look on his face. While this was embarrassing, probably the most embarrassing thing he'd experienced in his life, that was the least of his worries. That being said, Waylon did not want to look down at his body. He hadn't seen what they'd done to him and he didn't want to.

"Come now, the water will get cold and we wouldn't want you catching a chill."

_Oh, of course not. A chill would be the most terrible thing to happen to me. Maybe I can catch a cold and die._ Eddie gently led him over to the tub, supporting him with his arm. Despite it being only a couple feet away from them, it seemed much farther. It hurt to stand, it hurt to shuffle slowly across the floor, and now he would have to lift his legs, and that would hurt too. He stood by the edge of the tub, looking at the water.

"Do you need help getting in, darling? I don't want you to hurt yourself."

Waylon glared at him. "I can get in by myself." Not that he wanted to. In all likelihood, he was filthy though. He leaned out of Eddie's grasp, clutching onto the rim of the tub. His legs shook with effort to stay up. Now to lift one. He could do this. It was just one leg. He took a deep breath, bracing himself. Slowly, he lifted his leg, wincing in pain as he went.

It probably took him a solid minute to lift his leg even halfway to the tub, but he wasn't about to stop and ask for help. Not from him.

"Dear, would you like me to help you?"

He felt a hand on his back, his skin crawled. "No, I can do it." Waylon squirmed away from his hand, nearly losing his balance, only hurting himself more when he had to slam his foot back to the ground to keep from falling over. "Fuck!"

"Darling, please, let me help." The hand was back at his back, supporting him. Then Eddie lifted him gingerly.

"Put me down!" Waylon attempted to struggle, but Eddie's hold was firm.

"Now, now, stop that. You will only make things worse if you do that. I made sure that the water isn't too hot for you so it won't burn." He leaned in, presumably to kiss his forehead again, but Waylon put his hands in front of his face, stopping his efforts. Eddie frowned. "Well, maybe once you're all cleaned up." Soft words from a man who could easily snap him in half. Eddie lowered him into the tub, making sure that his bandaged ankle was out of the water.

The water was warm, but the tub itself was cold against his back. He shivered. Eddie moved the stool closer to the tub and sat down. He took a rag from the side of the tub, dipped it in the water, and rubbed a bar of soap against it until it was soapy. Then he felt it slap against his back and his entire body stiffened.

"Don't worry, I'll be gentle. Just relax."

As Eddie scrubbed his back, Waylon looked around the room. It was a small washroom; communal from the looks of the other tubs. There were a few windows along the walls letting in small rays of light. It was either early morning or evening, he couldn't tell. There were two doors; the one they came in and one that led elsewhere. That could be one way out if he figured out where he was in the building.

A kiss to the back of his neck snapped him out of his thoughts. He lurched forward, sloshing water. "Don't touch me!" Waylon turned to look at Eddie who sat there as if he'd done nothing wrong.

"I did not mean to startle you, I'm sorry. You seem very jumpy today, is everything alright?" He put his hands on Waylon's shoulders, moving him back. "If I didn't know any better I would think you didn't want to be here with me."

_No shit, Sherlock._ The cloth was back to his body, working its way down his arms. Even though Eddie wasn't directly looking at him, he felt watched. He needed to be careful. From experience, he knew this man was easily angered and carried a knife on him. If he could get it, potentially, he could stab Eddie and get out of here. _If._ But he didn't know where Eddie kept it on his person and he wasn't about to grope him in case he got the wrong idea. Which he would.

"I know things have been stressful for you lately, but things will get better. Soon enough you'll be walking around and it won't hurt so much. I don't want you wandering around by yourself though, there are... unpleasant men around and it's not safe for a lady such as yourself." He began washing his chest, pausing a moment. "Once you are stronger we can also get you your other surgery."

_Ah, yes, of course. Tits. Exactly what I needed. How silly of me to forget._

"Here." Eddie handed him the rag after he finished washing his stomach. "It's delicate down there, I wouldn't want to hurt you. Though, if you need me to help I will not hesitate. We just need to be careful of the stitches."

His face blanched. Stitches. On the one hand, cleaning himself was a better option than having Eddie continue with this. On the other hand, he didn't want to feel anything down there. Nevertheless, he took the rag, and with much hesitation, brought it down. He didn't look, but he could feel the stitches snag every now and then, causing him to clench his jaw. Even barely touching it, it hurt like a bitch.

Eddie preoccupied himself by gazing out one of the windows, perhaps giving him some semblance of privacy. This would probably be the highlight of his day. When he was done, Eddie took the rag back and cleaned up his legs, being careful around his ankle.

Then Eddie went behind him, momentary panic set in at not being able to see what he was doing, but he soon felt hands in his hair and soap hitting his ears.

"I think you'll be even more beautiful when your hair grows out, maybe just below the shoulders, do you think?"

That would take at least over a year and he had no intention of staying that long. Not if he could help it.

Eddie's hand moved from his hair to his chin, tilting back his head and he was once more greeted by that hideous face. "Stay right there." He heard something dip into the water, then saw it was a cup as it raised above his head. With his other hand, Eddie kept the water from running into his eyes. What a fucking gentleman.

"There. All clean and fresh as things should be." Eddie lifted him out of the tub effortlessly, placing him back on the stool, and getting a towel from a nearby holder. He began toweling his head. "You've been awful quiet this whole time, are you sure something isn't the matter?"

He should say something. Anything really, so he doesn't get suspicious and murder him in his sleep. "No." Short, but to the point. At least it was something.

Eddie hummed.

Soon enough, Waylon was dry and helped back into fresh clothes. He hoped these didn't come off a dead body. They looked like the beige clothes that the patients wore. Better than nothing.

"Would you like to walk around for a bit? I have more work I need to do downstairs, but I can stay up here a little longer to help you."

They were upstairs. Something useful, finally. "No, my legs hurt." More like the pain in his groin radiated down to his legs, but he still had no desire to walk either way.

"Ah, perhaps tomorrow, then." Once more, Eddie carried him bridal style, back to his bed. "Now, you get some rest. Do you like to read? I can bring some books up for you before I head down if you would like. I'm not sure what we have here, but surely something will suit your fancy."

Waylon shifted, propping himself up against his pillow. "Yeah. Sure." Why not? He had nothing better to do.

"Wonderful! I'll go get them and get the doctor so he can keep an eye on you while I'm gone. We can't have you hobbling off somewhere and getting lost. This is a big building with many halls and it's easy to get turned around and go the wrong way."

Like how he went the wrong way coming in here. Or maybe he was led to him by the others to become Eddie's newest plaything. Maybe he was a distraction so Eddie wouldn't go after them. Survival of the fittest and he'd drawn the short straw.

"I'll be right back." And his footsteps faded, leaving Waylon alone once more.


End file.
